My Dad Fell in Love… With Someone My Age - Chapter 4

When Aunt Qin first came to work as a housekeeper, Zhou Nian was just nine years old. You could say she watched him grow up, and she truly loved the motherless child as if he were her own. Sometimes she even thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Mr. Zhou to remarry and give Zhou Nian a younger brother or sister to keep him company in that big, lonely house.

But as the old saying goes—when there’s a stepmother, there’s often a stepfather too. What if the stepmother wasn’t kind? What if Zhou Tingzhi ended up favoring his new children over Zhou Nian? That boy’s life at home would become unbearable.

Every time she thought of that possibility, Aunt Qin felt a deep respect for Zhou Tingzhi. Despite his youth, he had shown real responsibility by refusing to remarry and cutting off any possibility of a tragic fate for his son before it could begin.

Yet, as Zhou Nian grew year by year, Aunt Qin’s thoughts shifted. She began to worry that once Zhou Nian married and had a family of his own, Zhou Tingzhi would be left alone in that big house. She’d even shed a few tears on his behalf and started hoping he’d find a warm, understanding woman while he was still young enough to enjoy her companionship.

But the last thing Aunt Qin ever expected was that Zhou Tingzhi—whom she had regarded as a refined gentleman, a lotus blooming unsullied from the mud—would turn out to be just like any other shallow man, obsessed with girls who are forever eighteen.

Although it wasn’t her place to judge her employer’s personal choices, Aunt Qin still spent the whole night tossing and turning over it. She wasn’t just angry for Zhou Nian’s sake, but also troubled for herself.

Mr. Zhou had an important event to attend the next day—it had been scheduled long in advance and couldn’t be missed. Once he left, that meant it would be just Aunt Qin, Zhou Nian, and that conniving little vixen alone in the house. The very thought gave Aunt Qin a mouthful of blisters from the stress.

But what had to be faced had to be faced—and with a smile, no less.

At first light, Aunt Qin got up to prepare Zhou Tingzhi’s breakfast. He didn’t have high expectations for meals—just light, nutritious food—unlike other employers who demanded ever-changing menus with detailed breakdowns of protein, fat, and fiber content.

Cooking for him was easy—so easy, in fact, that Aunt Qin often felt guilty about her high salary. To make up for it, she rose early every day to make medicinal soups for Zhou Tingzhi and Zhou Nian. Things like astragalus and ginseng pigeon soup, or chestnut and yam pig’s trotters soup—whatever was the most time-consuming, she made it, wholeheartedly and without complaint.

Until today.

Just as she was about to start prepping ingredients, her phone dinged. A rare message from Zhou Tingzhi had arrived—it was a breakfast menu with four dishes and a soup.

Ding ding dong dong, more messages came in:

Zhou Tingzhi: Sorry, Aunt Qin. I forgot to mention last night—I won’t be home for breakfast this morning. They’ll probably wake up around nine, so you can start cooking then.

Zhou Tingzhi: Sorry to trouble you with the extra grocery trip.

Zhou Tingzhi: [Transfer: ¥500]

Aunt Qin used to think of herself as someone who was easily swayed by money. Clearly, she was mistaken.

Oh, Zhou Tingzhi! Don’t tell her you don’t know your son always sleeps till noon on holidays? “They’ll wake up around nine,” you say—as if no one sees through your sneaky little thoughts! So busy all the time, yet you still find energy to craft a custom menu for that little seductress?! Leaving yesterday’s groceries untouched and asking for new ones—who was it that insisted on not wasting food?

Liu Xiuqin: [Refunded]

Liu Xiuqin: Just part of the job. No trouble at all.

Fuming, Aunt Qin replied with a mere eight-character message (including punctuation), her first-ever act of silent protest as a professional housekeeper.

As for that breakfast-slash-lunch, you can bet she made it with a heavy heart, like someone cooking for her husband’s new wife.

After she swallowed her pride and finished cooking, just as Zhou Tingzhi had predicted, Tao Xin wandered out of the guest room around 9:10, still bleary-eyed. She greeted Aunt Qin with a sweet smile. “Morning, Aunt Qin.”

Aunt Qin was fifty-two. Even when Zhou Tingzhi called her “Sister Qin,” it felt like a stretch. But hearing it from the young, soft-spoken Tao Xin? It was downright unsettling.

Not knowing what to call her in return, Aunt Qin gave a tight smile and said, “Good morning. Breakfast is ready—eat it while it’s hot.”

“Mmm, smells amazing. I could smell it the moment I opened the door,” Tao Xin chirped, settling into a chair and sipping the soup with delight. Her eyes sparkled. “Wow! So fresh!”

Despite herself, Aunt Qin chuckled—and immediately regretted it.

Oh no, oh no—this is bad! The little seductress clearly had skills! One greeting, and she’d already worked her magic. If she was this easily swayed, how could she face Zhou Nian, whom she’d raised like her own son?

Aunt Qin composed herself, lips pursed in restraint. “If you like it, have some more.”

While Tao Xin ate, Aunt Qin studied her from the corner of her eye. Even if she disapproved of Tao Xin cozying up to a wealthy older man, she had to admit—the girl was stunning. Not just pretty, but truly elegant, with a cold, aloof nobility that shone through even in a baggy nightgown and tousled hair. She looked like the well-bred daughter of a prestigious family.

Aunt Qin’s resolve wavered. With a face like that, surely Tao Xin could land someone younger, richer, and better-looking than Zhou Tingzhi. Why him? Could it be… true love?

To be fair, Zhou Tingzhi did have his merits. By rich-old-man standards, he was practically a fairy tale—handsome, gentle, steady. Maybe Tao Xin wasn’t in it for the money after all.

But the age gap… it was hard to ignore.

Just as Aunt Qin’s mind was running wild, the landline phone rang. She picked it up and heard a smooth male voice. “Hello, is this Mr. Zhou’s residence?”

Sales call, obviously.

“Mr. Zhou isn’t home. Who’s calling? If it’s important, I’ll pass it on.”

“Ah, thank you. Yesterday, Mr. Zhou and Miss Tao came to our store and bought a few items. The experience was a bit rushed, so we got special approval from headquarters to offer them our home wardrobe service—delivering all this season’s items straight to their door for them to browse at their leisure. It’s a privilege we offer only to VICs.”

Quick-thinking Aunt Qin realized the call was meant for Tao Xin and handed over the phone.

“Hello?” Tao Xin said sweetly.

The voice on the other end brightened. “Miss Tao! It’s Dennis from yesterday—remember me? Sorry to call so early—hope I didn’t disturb you?”

Aunt Qin, still within earshot, was impressed. These salespeople had a sixth sense. Zhou Tingzhi had been a public figure for years, always buying but never spending extravagantly—like a Pixiu, the mythical beast that only takes in but never gives out.

Yet now, for the first time, he’d entered a luxury boutique for the sake of a young woman. Of course, the staff immediately upgraded him to VIC. This was their chance to butcher the fat pig.

And Tao Xin? She was the glistening blade.

Tao Xin listened, smiled, and casually said, “I happen to be free. Come by later.” Then hung up and turned to Aunt Qin. “Shopping’s so convenient now—you don’t even have to leave the house.”

Aunt Qin only smiled. What could she say? That Tao Xin had just moved in and was already making such a grand show? That she wasn’t afraid of scaring off the goose before it laid its golden eggs?

Unaware of Aunt Qin’s thoughts, Tao Xin, full and content, plopped down on the couch to watch a drama.

Given how fast society evolved, she couldn’t rely on books to catch up. Since she couldn’t experience the last 18 years firsthand, she was assigned a socialization task: watch every urban drama from 2002 to 2020, in chronological order.

Director Chen Ping had told her not to focus on the plot—just learn from the lifestyle details—but the sheer absurdity of the stories made her want to scream. Overbearing mothers-in-law, ridiculous relatives, toxic workplaces, convoluted love triangles, and cartoonish villains—it was overwhelming.

Still, she had to endure it. Every three months, she was tested by the Bureau. She needed to pass three times in a row before being approved to live independently.

Even if she aced each test, it would take nine months. Then she’d have to learn to drive, get a license, and find a place to study. Sinking into the soft couch, Tao Xin sighed deeply.

Her melancholy was interrupted by the arrival of Dennis and his team. Five or six sharply dressed salesmen in black suits and white gloves marched in, slipping on shoe covers with military precision. They unpacked, steamed, arranged, and displayed everything in perfect order. Then Dennis brought over a young woman in a white dress.

“Miss Tao, this model matches your build almost exactly. If you’d like, she can try things on for you,” he said sincerely, hands clasped to his chest. “We had to search the dance academy just to find someone with a figure like yours.”

Tao Xin was stunned. She didn’t even have to try the clothes on herself? This was next-level shopping. She almost wanted to marvel out loud, but held back so they wouldn’t think she was a country bumpkin.

“Hmm… looks good,” she said nonchalantly.

The sales team kicked it up a notch. “Try these flats, Miss Tao. You’re tall and long-legged—they’ll really highlight your proportions.” “Take a look at this bag—it’s a limited edition. Only a few in the entire country!”

Who could resist that kind of flattery?

Tao Xin hadn’t meant to go overboard—she only wanted some comfy clothes—but ended up buying even the ugly catwalk bags, swept away by their enthusiasm.

She didn’t notice, but Aunt Qin did—and was quietly shocked. These people really knew what they were doing. Once those bags came in, they weren’t leaving. Who knew how much this would all cost…

Just as she was debating whether to call Zhou Tingzhi and report what was happening, a sudden flurry of urgent footsteps echoed from upstairs…

Everyone in the hall turned to see a young man standing at the staircase, his face twisted in anger. He glared at Tao Xin and shouted, “Who gave you permission to invite these people to my house?”

Tao Xin lightly hopped onto the sofa and responded without backing down, “Didn’t your father tell you? This is my house too.”

“You—” Zhou Nian was never good at arguing. His face flushed with frustration, and after a long pause, he finally snapped, “Fine! I’m leaving! Just you wait!”

Without even bothering to change out of his home clothes, Zhou Nian stormed out of the house.

Instead of showing concern, Tao Xin chuckled softly as he watched him go, his expression relaxed and indifferent.

Aunt Qin, however, was fuming with anger.